


Levels

by ConventionalExy (Conventionals)



Series: Our body [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Bruises, Childhood Trauma, Exy (All For The Game), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Rape, Soulmates, Soulmates AU, Torture, Warning: Drake Spear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conventionals/pseuds/ConventionalExy
Summary: Typically soulmates don't feel the other person's pain. They can tell they are in pain, yes, but if they're not in a war zone or getting constantly traumatized, the bond won't 'Level up'.Trauma is the key, and some people are lucky enough to not have much of it.Andrew and Neil are not included in that category.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Our body [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203392
Comments: 25
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I am quite happy with, except for a few passages here and there that feel like "EXPOSITION" but what can you do y'know? You're your own critic and all that. 
> 
> I began writing this as soon as I finished the books a couple months back, so fandom influence is pretty much absent here I would say (at least the first chapter or two). 
> 
> It's an E-rated AFTG fic, so I really hope you are aware of what you're getting into. Tags will be updated as I post.

The first time Andrew's soulmate even registered for him was during his last class of the day when he had been… Nine.

It had been painful. Not much, he could tell he wasn't getting the full experience, but it still hurt. 

He wouldn't know for years what the pain that had him gasping with surprise in the middle of class was on his shoulder. He only knew it was pain and coming from his soulmate. It stung, burned and ached all at once with a dash of that weird "pull" feeling you got from sliding the tip of your pencil under your skin.

That night, when his whole body throbbed and he felt tired, dirty and used, he wondered if the other kid could feel Andrew's pain like Andrew felt his. 

Half of Andrew wished he did. That he wasn't going through this alone… and the other half wished the signals he sent weren't strong enough for the other kid to be sobbing in their own bed right now. 

…..

The first time Nathaniel felt anything from his soulmate's end he had been around eight years old. It hadn't been much but a sensation of discomfort in (around) his throat, back and butt. He figured he was getting sick or needed to go to the bathroom or maybe his soulmate wasn't feeling too well or had his tonsils removed (because it would explain the throat feeling, right?).

So Nathaniel went to bed and had pancakes the next morning.

It would take a few years for him to realize just what had been happening to the other kid that night. 

…..

It was when Andrew was 13 that he found out his connection wasn't normal, during biology of all classes (he shouldn't have been surprised but he was for some reason). They we're done covering sex and reproduction and began the chapter on soulmates, how it had always been a thing and science couldn't quite explain it yet- hence the stupid religious name, all the romanticism behind it and dumb beliefs. 

"Most bonds evolve with time," Miss Claremont had said from where she sat perched on the edge of her desk, "the first injuries never register. Not the first scraped knee, or second… or even a broken arm from falling off a bike. Things only start registering once the pain builds up. Leading theory these days is that this strengthening is nothing but a way evolution found to guarantee the survival of the species: no one wants to be in pain, specially pain they can't quite know where it came from, which would lead to taking care of others since you never knew if that was your soulmate. 

"The bond has had different averages throughout history. During the wars it was most common for people to experience Levels 3s and 4s, in some extreme cases even 5s. Today the average is 2s and 3s, a sign that we've improved our quality of life. But most people really only feel a..." she stopped and glanced around the class as if waiting for some nerd to answer the question she hadn't really asked. 

Mary fucking pigtails raised her hand and spoke before being called, "Like a tightness in your chest! Like you know something is wrong but not what."

The teacher nodded, pleased with the simple and direct answer.

Andrew thought about how stupid that statement was. Sure, how vivid things felt had evolved- his soulmate had a very painful life- but it had never felt like a tightness in his chest as far as he remembered. It had always been the pain. Since he had been 9. Maybe, if he had anyone who actually gave a shit look after him, he might have noticed the bond before. 

He ignored the sadness he felt at the fact that even that part of his life had to be twisted.

"Bullshit," he scoffed before he could stop himself.

The teacher shot him a look that he knew meant 'language, but go on'. And for some reason he did. 

"It was never "a tightness"," He sounded so bitter even to his own ears, "First time I remember it hurt enough to have me gasping and feeling it. I don't know what happened, think it might have been a burn," he touched his shoulder and shrugged, "not as painful as I imagine a real burn would be, but painful enough to let me know it was happening. To let me feel some of it."

Miss Claremont was quiet for a long moment after that, just like everyone else in class "You might have a unique bond, Andrew…" She looked almost sorry then. Unique was never a good word. "Every bond is different. There are some bonds so strong that the marks actually show up on the other person, as rare as they are. Some think such strong bonds mean you two are meant to protect each other, that your souls are old and tired of searching. That you haven't found each other in centuries… The bond will most likely keep getting stronger until you meet them and your souls touch, just like with everyone else."

Andrew leaned back on his chair and rolled his eyes, "Whoever they are, they're clumsy." 

She left it at that, pity and sadness so evident on her face before she turned to the board and went on to explaining the different levels of bonds and a general consensus about how they worked.

Level 1- Gasp. Usually normal in kids. Barely a reaction but a little discomfort (where the nursery rhyme about mommies moving mountain to help you find your soulmate came from- the original was actually about mommy sending daddy off to find them and stop your pain but he supposed people were too horrified by infanticide these days).

Level 2- "The tightness" in the chest (Most common now with modern medicine and society frowning on spanking/hitting kids).

Level 3- Phantom pains. Like registering where your soulmate got hurt but without the pain.

Level 4- Pain. When you could actually feel a fraction of the pain. Already rare enough that about 5% of soulmates had it (where Andrew had most likely started to notice the bond).

Level 5- Full pain. When both of you experienced the exact same pain (and just their luck, they had moved up another level already).

Level 6- Physical or "bruising". When you share the bruises (can the little shit on the other end just run away or behave or something before they get there? geez).

Level 7- Scars. When you begin getting each other's scars. One bruise might heal as a scar one day. (Here is where history comes into play. Apparently people hadn't been getting hurt this much in a long while so the last registered case was of a soldier in WWI)

Level 8- Trauma (Your soulmate's got a concussion? Guess what you have! Internal bleeding? Oh yes! Got knocked out? Guess what).

Level 9- Injuries or "blood" (Because internal injuries aren't enough, right? You gotta bleed together too).

Level 10- Death. Sweet, sweet relief for both of you. (Only a handful of cases registered in history, usually victims of repeated physical torture, rape, abuse, kept in captivity for years without anyone being able to find them. Those were some of the hardest stories for Andrew to stomach. He'd been repeatedly raped, his soulmate had been repeatedly tortured apparently or something… Enough pain on both sides to keep their bond growing more and more physical… And if they ever got to this point, even a simple heart attack could kill them. When one does, so does the other, no matter the cause. He just hoped when they went, they went quick).

That night when Drake first showed up in Andrew's life, he felt almost bad for the bastard who had been saddled with him for a soulmate. Sure, physical injuries hurt a lot but in the end they'd fade. What the men in Andrew's life had done to him- and by extension his soulmate- was a level of pain that he could only imagine how confusing and awful it felt when no one was actually there. 

That night with Drake, while trying to think of anything other than the awfully familiar sensation of being ripped apart from the inside, he thought for the first time that his soulmate probably thought he was just as bad as the men. Because Andrew was the one inflicting this on them.

He wondered if his soulmate already bore any bruises. Wondered if they'd ever make it to level 8 and the poor bastard needed rape aftercare without being the one getting the… Short end of the stick, so to speak.

He wondered if his soulmate even registered when he began cutting himself. He had so much experience with getting cut that surely a few slashes on a wrist wouldn't even be blip on his radar.

…..

Nathaniel wasn't Nathaniel anymore when he was made aware that their bond had changed and gotten stronger. 

He knew he felt a fraction of what his soulmate felt (a 4, his mom called it), and that's just how it had started that night. 

He knew some things about the other kid: they got physical a lot. Or rather, people got physical with them a lot. 

So the kid probably wasn't from a good family.

He also figured the kid (or maybe teen or fellow pre-teen) probably had some kind of bowel problems or something because of certain pains. Maybe they had been born with a short intestine? Maybe it was a girl and the weird pain had something to do with his body lacking the proper place for it…

Regardless, he knew those things about them and treated them as facts.

So when the oddly familiar tightness to his neck showed up and the faint feeling of scratches over his thighs came in the middle of the night, he simply got up to go to the bathroom and wait for it to pass so he wouldn't wake his mom. 

And then it got bumped up to a 5. 

He simply knew it wasn't a fraction anymore when he had to hold back a scream as he dropped to his hands and knees because of the pain in his ass… Pain that was just too wrong, too fucking wrong to be anything his soulmate was doing willingly (because he wasn't stupid, he heard some kids in school talking about anal sex and ended up looking it up out of curiosity. He didn't get it, but to each their own, but it hadn't read as excruciating pain, like being ripped apart).

Through the pain his mind supplied a 'stranger danger' and 'inappropriate touches' talk the police had done at his last school. 

And then he knew, with a sickening twist to his stomach even as he tried to believe it wasn't true, all those times, all those years, his soulmate had been getting… Getting… 

He couldn't even think of the word. Why the bond changed just then was a mystery he didn't have time to try to uncover. He didn't want to think what was different about this one that required him to feel it more, that made his soulmate beg for someone to save them. 

He waited for it to end for what felt like forever then hopped in the shower to try and get that lingering feeling of so much pain all over off him. 

By the time his brain registered any pain in his arms, he was already asleep.

…..

Andrew had been in the middle of a game of stupid stickball when the pain came. He hadn't felt anything this strong in a while from his stupid soulmate's end. Some cuts, yeah, slaps to the face, the rough beating or two, but nothing this bad. His body actually jerked back and he fell on his back from the pain- from the feeling of impact- holding the spot where he had been injured- not him, the other one- and gritting his teeth. Fuck, it burned like a mother fucker, like something ripped through layers of skin fast and hot.

It wasn't until the nurse was hovering over him that he registered that the game had stopped, that he was holding his phantom injury like he was trying to stop blood or make it hurt less (ha). 

The nurse had his jersey and gear off before he could protest and she gasped at what he guessed must have been quite the sight to see forming. 

"B-b-but how?" Her eyes went from Andrew's face to the area of the pain then his "coach" and back again. 

Like a fucking ping-pong ball, he'd always remember thinking. 

"His soulmate was shot," the police officer who played coach finally said after a moment and Andrew couldn't help the bitter chuckle that left his body- broken, tired and pained. 

It gave away everything he felt and he hated it so much.

This was a vulnerability. This was crap.

"Jackass finally got them showing up on me?" The silence was all the confirmation he needed, "clumsy they are, to get us to Level 6" Andrew tried to laugh but all that came out was a mixture of a strangled cough and the sound of the letter 'a', "think we might die one day? Would be nice if they did before dragging me along, the bastard." 

The nurse eyed the coach and they seemed to mumble something to each other that barely registered as "This kid needs to be found" and "This isn't normal" when he felt the bullet wound being cleaned up and fucking stitched shut.

He had to bite his glove to stand that one like he always did when the other one got stitched up.

Then he passed out. 

…..

He thought about his soulmate as himself- as Abram as much as he could. The other kid wasn't Alex's soulmate or anything like that- Alex didn't have a soulmate. No. They were Abram's. He wouldn't let that little bit of himself get taken away. 

He thought about his soulmate's reaction to getting shot, how bitter they must have been when their bond changed yet again because he messed up and got shot. 

Of course he was stupid. So stupid. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the moon one night while watching his knuckles get bruised.

"I'm so sorry… I should have been smarter, you don't deserve this… able to see how fucked up I am, being able to feel my pain and get my bruises. I'm so sorry. I'll do better. I promise-" 

"Abram, are you praying?"

He turned to see his mother already under the blankets, ready for bed.

"Just trying to remember something I learned in biology today," he lied then made his way over to her.

She glanced at his knuckles, to the bruises that weren't his exactly and sighed, "When did you two get to a 6? What did that bitch do this time?" 

Before she had a chance to lose her temper, he answered her, "It happened when I got shot." 

And his mom was quiet after that.

….

Andrew hated the other so much every time he had to cover up a bruise on his body that wasn't even his. The guy- Andrew had a feeling it was a guy after careful consideration of certain types of pain- better be at least a little annoyed at how Andrew got into fights all the time. 

He better be at least annoyed at the pain Andrew had been bracing himself for for the last few seconds.

When the pain from the impact ran through his body, somewhat making him think of that bullet wound a few days back in the way the seatbelt bruised him deeply and the metal felt almost hot, he wondered, for a split second before he blacked, out if the other one would be able to tell he had been in a car crash, if he was asleep or awake for it, doing something that got messed up because of the sudden pain or jolted awake by it. 

He hoped he wouldn't wake up to a random extra bruise because he distracted the other while he did some the other stuff like trying not to get shot with a crossbow or some shit.

…..

Neil supposed it was only fair that the one "calm" year of his life was also quiet on his soulmate's end. 

It was only fair to them. Some peace. Even if for just a while. 

The bond hadn't been completely quiet- it never properly would. There were days when he felt extra sore after practice, which let him know his soulmate also played some sport. The bruises shaped like the unmistakable shape of an Exy ball eventually let him know his soulmate also played Exy (and no, he wasn't vibrating with happiness when that happened).

It made Neil happy to know they shared that, made him give a little more of himself every time he stepped on the court because of it. 

Because his soulmate really was his soulmate if they played Exy. 

There also were paper cuts and the eventual bruised knuckles to let Neil know his soulmate hadn't changed a bit, just… Settled down, maybe.

During his year at Millport, he even thought about bruising a message to his soulmate, something small like a scratched 'hi' or something. 

He thought about it. 

Neil was glad the rape wasn't a thing anymore, that getting beat wasn't a thing anymore for either of them, for this year. Their peaceful year.

…..

The happy pills let Andrew think about the soul bond without any painful thoughts or memories clouding his judgement… Somewhat. 

The pain had been almost non-existent this past year, probably the longest it had ever been like that. Sure there was the eventual sore muscle, an injury from the stick ball his dear other (he had given the honor of the name to his twin briefly when he had first moved in with Tilda, but Aaron was more of a Clone than Other. Hopefully the Other hadn't missed the nickname!) seemed to also play (because just Andrew's luck that he got double sore! Yay!), but no more bullets or burns or painfully deep cuts that didn't leave a bruise behind until they began healing on the other. 

On the happy pills, Andrew wondered if the next "evolution" (haha like Pokemons! Get it? Fuck he thought the funniest shit sometimes) in their bond was coming, he wondered what kind of trauma would take it from boo-boos and ouchies and searing pain to Andrew's skin splitting open alongside the Other's. Wait. Not yet. Not quite splitting open really just yet, they still have some scars to share! They were a Level Six and had to get to Level Nine for the cuts and bullet wounds and burns to mutually manifest. 

So next was Seven. The scars. 

Oh! Would they share old ones too? Andrew hoped not, he was fine with his own scars and didn't need new ones to hide (so many ouchies the Other had… No no, Andrew didn't want those old things on him). 

"And our scars remind us that the past is real," He sang the lyrics to the song running through his mind, that manic grin twisting them about as he swung his legs back and forth from where he was comfortably sitting on his own desk.

Kevin shot him a look from the couch. He was watching tapes of possible new recruits for the stupid game he was sexually attracted to. 

Haha, Kevin was sexually attracted to a game his mom had invented, that's gotta be some mommy issues right there, right? And too bad he wanted to hump his Exy stick because Andrew probably wouldn't mind a little humping with Kevin Day, maybe.

"Kevin, you're so silly," He laughed, "sexually attracted to Exy. How does it work between you and the stick?" He tilted his head, smile never fading. 

Kevin rolled his cowardly eyes,"Go back to singing that emo shit."

Andrew jumped down from the desk he had been sitting on, "You don't tell me what to do, Exysexual," then he started reciting the lyrics with the emphasis in all the wrong syllables to make it sound even worse," And our scars remind us! That the past is real!" 

The happy pills made him exaggerate the words and he was so… so something, that he slammed his fist down on the desk hard enough to hurt so his soulmate knew he was thinking of him. 

Andrew walked back to his room and laid down to think happy thoughts of murdering people with rose thorns in a field of lilacs (they wouldn't see it coming! It would be hilarious!) and disposing of the body in a pig farm. 

Pigs were kinda cute, he supposed. 

…..

Oh. This Neil was a runner. Andrew hated runners.

Andrew had known that the stickball stick would come in handy, he always had a feeling about these things.

For a second he wondered if the rabbit's soulmate would feel it too, how strong their bond was. 

For a second, because the next the racquet was hitting the runner's middle, knocking the air out of him. 

And himself.

Out of them. 

Oh no. Shit. This wasn't good. Not a turn of events Andrew had expected at all. The vivid pain, the bruises that were sure to come if they weren't there already… It wasn't a coincidence, not the way the kid gasped and Andrew bit into his cheek to keep himself from letting it show that he felt it too. 

He didn't need to get to Level Eight to stop breathing because of the pain. He didn't need much to know where that pain was coming from. 

Fuck. Not good at all. No. Nope. No, sir. Nopety nope no.

"Oh no," he grinned, making a show of bending over and holding his own stomach. To everyone else it probably looked like he was bowing to applause in his head, bowing to Wymack's words of "we can't have nice things".

"We can't have this now, can we?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil gets a clue.   
> Lunch at the Hemmick's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to update The Damned today, leave this one for Monday, but with everything that's been going on, with the possibility of going back into a semi-lockdown like we had this time last year, I haven't been in the right mind to write The Damned, that story is supposed to be light and silly and fun.
> 
> So here you have it! Another chapter of this messed up soulmate AU. Enjoy!

Neil couldn’t believe this was real. The moment he saw the court, all the bright orange and white, the fox paws everywhere, the plexiglass, the perfect-looking floors… He knew he had made the right decision. 

He’d get to play, even if for just a little while and with an arguably barely decent team, he’d get to play in front of thousands of people. 

Maybe his soulmate would see him play, even if they never met. He hoped the person on the other end of this connection could tell who they were looking at if it ever came to it. 

…..

Andrew would be so much more amused right now if the other hadn’t just blown his fucking arms out against him. 

It had been fun at first, denying someone what they wanted always was.

At first, but not now that he had to drive and his arms ached like he had been the one exerting himself out on that court

He walked up to the idiot, jaw clenched, and stepped on the racquet he kept trying to pick up.

How could this kid be his soulmate? He was barely a human being, was more of a scared little rabbit than anything else, a petty child obsessed with the dumbest sport ever invented (Andrew used to give that honor to croquet, but then he learned about Exy). 

He tried to shove Andrew off the racquet but barely managed to brush against Andrew’s shorts. Andrew didn’t move when he felt just how much that action  _ hurt _ , he couldn’t help the short huff of air that came out sounding like a laugh. 

Fuck Neil Josten. 

“Get off my racquet,” Neil spat.

Andrew chuckled and spread his arms open, inviting the idiot to a fight. “Make me.”

Andrew felt disappointed when he left and Neil hadn’t even attempted to strike him. It would have been amusing to watch the horror on Josten’s face. 

…..

Andrew didn't quite know what had him attacking Nicky like that. 

Fine. That's a lie, he was fully aware why he did it. 

He just couldn't understand it since the oth _ \- Neil _ wasn't one of his. 

Sure, they shared bruises and pain but that didn't mean anything. The bond meant nothing, it didn't mean they had to do anything for each other.

Andrew reasoned that he simply put a knife to Nicky like that because he would never allow someone who had been so blatantly given a 'no' to just get away with it. That was why. 

Because rape jokes are never just jokes.

Andrew didn't feel protective over the other. The oth-  _ Neil _ wasn't his to protect. 

Their bond was nothing to him.

…..

Andrew knew for a fact (haha not really, nothing besides the fact that the soul bond was a thing was a  _ fact _ , even if it was a "soul" bond and not something else) that the first time they touched they'd never "Level up" again. Which was… good. Something told him the idiot would still get himself in trouble and it wasn't a good idea to risk it. Risk himself. 

So touching was good for them. 

But… he couldn't bring himself to do it because it might not work. Sometimes it didn't. He wasn't going to touch someone else just because some legend said he should.

So that first night at Columbia had been… interesting.

Specially that knock out punch. 

It hadn't made him black out- they weren't level 8 yet- but it sure as hell hurt like a motherfucker. 

As he drove them back, his head pounding, he damn near envied Neil Josten. 

  
  


Andrew would happily put up with the stupid bruise and the pain just for the satisfaction of stabbing Neil Josten. 

His legs were sore even though he did nothing, so it stands to reason that the idiot decided to somehow rabbit away.

Was he running all the way back to Palmetto or something? 

Fucking rabbit.

  
  


Andrew knew the stupid runaway was a lying bastard, but the story he was told in German definitely had more than some truth to it, so he didn't mind too much. 

But the explanation? About all the pain he had felt all these years? About the stupid fucking weakness they shared? Was more than enough for him at the moment. 

The happy pills even had him laughing later on, alone in his dorm touching his chest in places where he knew Neil had the scars. It was  _ hysterical. _ So. Fucking. Hysterical. He could end it right there and then. Could have ended it in Wymack's living room just by touching the asshole, could have stopped their bond from growing but… even though for most people it worked, Andrew couldn't be sure it would for them. 

They had already started with such a strong bond that only grew with the fact they needed protection and no one was there that… he couldn't be sure it would ever stop leveling up. 

He was laughing then again. Because Neil would be the death of him, wouldn't he? It would grow and grow until they had no choice but bleed to death together, or have their hearts stop. 

Oh yeah, he laughed so hard he fell off the bed. He'd die with the idiot one day. With the other. The rabbit. Neil Josten.

…..

Neil felt his heart stop when he walked in the room and saw Andrew sitting under the window on top of two dressers, his bloody hand dangling between bent knees.

An injury too similar to the bruising on Neil’s own hand. 

When Andrew flexed his fingers, Neil’s hand ached.

But it couldn’t be. Andrew would know already if they were soulmates, it would be such an irony, like of course two of the most messed up people in the world  _ had _ to be soulmates.

Great. He was stuck with a soulmate who hated him.

Neil watched closely as Andrew spoke on the phone, then hung up, then answered it again…

Something about the way Andrew was visibly upset had him clenching his fists too. 

Empathy. Maybe. 

He hated the spectacle, hated that everyone was watching and hated how Wymack could simply stand there and accuse Andrew when he was like this. 

Sure, Andrew Minyard was a jerk, an asshole, too eager and ready to stab… But he wasn't a sociopath, he had feelings even if they were heightened or dampened by whatever drugs he was taking, and right now he was upset.

Was Neil the only one seeing it? 

And then he punched the wall, splitting the skin on his knuckles and Neil froze, his own hand hurting and bruising in response.

He carefully glanced down at his own hand, watched the bruises forming on his knuckles where Andrew’s had split.

Kevin was saying something that seemed to only make Andrew more determined to break his hand. So Neil stepped in. 

Before Andrew could really hurt himself Neil placed his body between his soulmate’s fist and the wall. 

He thought there was a flash of recognition in those distant hazel eyes, like Andrew, medicated as he was, knew what would happen if he punched Neil instead of the wall.

"Just go."

And Andrew went.

  
  


Neil found Andrew on the roof. 

He sat down, took the cigarette Andrew held out to him with his bruised hand and sighed. 

"What did he want that had you so upset?" 

Andrew must have been coming down, because that smile wasn't anywhere near his typical manic one. He raised one eyebrow without looking at Neil and continued smoking.

"I could see it, Andrew. I don't know why no one else could but that wasn't normal, even for you." 

Andrew shrugged and took a long drag from his cigarette. 

"They're opening an investigation on one of my old foster families," he drawled after a few beats of silence. "They won't find shit."

Neil thought back to the time he had asked him about his foster homes. Andrew had said they were all shit and he had been through many, and judging by the reaction something big happen-

Oh. Being  _ that _ house would explain a lot. 

He didn’t know how long Andrew had stayed there, where there was or who did it, but he knew what had happened to him there. He had felt it.

"He wants your statement?"

"Something like that." 

…..

The trip to the Hemmick had been… boring. Could have been better, all things considered. 

At least he had managed not to  _ touch _ the idiot. At least that. They still hadn't touched. It had been safe. He was fine. They'd never touch. 

Call him a masochist, self-harmer or whatever. They'd never fucking touch if Andrew could avoid it. 

The happy pills let him admit that he'd rather die along with the idiot than live without the other end of their connection. It wasn't romantic, wasn't sappy. It was simply practical, he told himself. 

Neil's pain was the only thing he felt on the damn pills half the time. Neil's pain would be the only thing besides boredom, apathy and anger that he'd feel once he was off the damn pills. So all in all, it was a good idea really. Andrew was full of those. 

Like not being here, that had been one of his amazingly brilliant ideas! People wouldn't listen to him, obviously, but it had been. 

Going up the stairs for the secret alcohol had also been a goo- 

He knew the pain on the side of his head was his because he blacked out for a few seconds. 

He hoped Neil was at least smart enough to know that they were soulmates. He had to know by now, right? 

He had to.

He had to had to had to had to had to- Neil would come. He had to. 

He had to. 

In a rare moment of clarity that the pills allowed him, while he found himself barely able to move as Drake yanked his pants down  _ so painfully _ , grabbed and squeezed to his heart's content, pulled and shoved, in that rare moment he realized he couldn't- just couldn't. Not anymore. 

Not if it happened again. 

Not with Neil under the same roof. Not with Neil  _ knowing _ (he had to at least suspect something was up) and doing  _ nothing _ , it would make him too much like  _ them _ . 

If Neil let this happen to him again, he'd kill himself before he could feel anything from Neil again. It wouldn't feel good anymore, it would feel too much like being violated. And by Neil. No. 

Neil would never. 

Neil would never. 

He'd come. Neil would come. 

Oh. That wasn't pleasant. Hmm… Fuck, not at all. At least he had a nice soft pillow to bite to keep quiet! Yay! See, even good things could come from being brutally raped! 

He hated the grin on his face and Drake's words with a passion, but what else was there for him to do but laugh at himself? At his own pain. It was so ironic, how the gods hated him, ironic how he could never bring himself to fight, to scream, to ask for help. 

That instinct had him fucked out of him a long time ago, so he let Drake push his head into the pillow and tried to down out his words with muffled laughter.

"I knew you'd missed me AJ. So good to see you smiling like this for once. And this ass? Keeping yourself nice and tight huh? You're still so perfect for me, AJ. You'll always be my favorite. Made specially for me."

…..

The moment he felt the hit to the head he knew something was wrong. 

"Where's Andrew?" He demanded with his hand pressed to the sight of the already-forming bruise, "Where the fuck is he!?" He almost yelled, suddenly desperate.

Because something was wrong. Something or someone hit Andrew, and by how much his own head throbbed, he’d guess Andrew was in no condition to defend himself.

"What the-" Aaron tried to say, staring at Neil, at the spot where it hurt so bad, the one he was trying to hide.

"He'll come back when he's done talking to Drake." Luther said with casualty that reminded Neil too much of his own father. 

By the time Neil felt the way too familiar pain on his body (another hit, face being forced down, pants being ripped off without a single care, catching and dragging where it  _ hurt _ ), he was already on his way up the stairs with his brand new heavy racquet in hands and Aaron right behind him.

He dropped to his knees as yet another familiar pain found its way up his body. 

No. No. 

He had to get to Andrew  _ now _ . 

He forced himself up on unstable legs, holding onto the racquet like a walking cane for the first couple of steps before he managed to make himself ignore the pain and forced his way to the one closed door. 

Fuck, it hurt so bad. His head, his face, his hips, his cock, his hands were practically numb and his ass- Fuck!

He handed Aaron the racquet so he could kick down the door and put all his anger and pain behind the kicks he gave the wood. 

He did hurt all over, but nothing kept him from taking in the scene in front of him, as awful as it was, and something told him he’d never forget it even if he tried.

Neil had felt it time and time again and knew it was bad… But to actually see it in front of him would have him killing Drake if Aaron had not beat him to it.

And Andrew was… Still gripping the headboard  _ too _ tight, he hadn't moved at all, naked and bleeding and he was  _ smiling _ , smiling that manic smile that made Neil’s heart ache too often.

While Aaron stared at the corpse (which wasn't even close to being a gruesome one). Neil reached over and stopped his hands centimeters from Andrew's.

"Andrew. It's Neil. Can I touch you?" 

Neil recognized a nod and gently helped Andrew uncurl his fingers from the headboard which led to his own mirrored pain to begin fading.

Then, pulled the cleanest sheets on the bed over Andrew's body to try and give him some privacy. Their eyes met and Andrew's grin shifted from manic to something that could pass as happiness and bitterness and finally settled back on regular Andrew-manic.

He opened his mouth and licked his dry lips then gingerly reached for the injury Neil sported on his temple that mirrored Andrew's own bloody cut. 

Neil realized, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this was the first time they ever touched. 

"Oh… You came this time."

The words twisted inside Neil's chest. 

_ This time _ . 

This time Neil came to his soulmate’s rescue. This time he did something that while didn’t make it stop. 

Andrew didn't sound manic for once even though he looked every bit of it, all toothy grin, chapped lips and slightly vacant eyes. Neil knew better than to think his mind was clear. 

"You see, you," he pressed a finger to Neil's chest hard, "and me, are going to…" he gritted his teeth, " _ kill _ Drake."

"Andrew…" Aaron choked out.

Neil almost rolled his eyes at Aaron’s whiny tone. He killed Drake, it’s not like a rapist deserved that kind of reaction. He should probably get an award for it or something.

Still, in case he wasn’t all that dead, Neil spared the body another look, the neck bent the wrong way, the open and lifeless eyes.

Yup. Definitely dead.

"He's dead," he told the twins.

"Well, Luther will do then. He should be here any second now!" Andrew laughed and moved in a particular way that had Neil gasping at the pain. How Andrew didn't even flinch was a mystery.

"Shhhh," Andrew pressed his fingers to his lips, "our little secret, Josten."

Neil bit back the acid trying to fight its way up his throat at that choice of words.

…..

Neil came! Neil came! Neil came! 

He wouldn't let himself dwell over the fact that he didn't get a chance to hide the body- Drake’s body- so his brother didn't get in trouble.

Because Neil came. 

He knew what it meant and fought to get to Andrew. Even if it meant he could put himself in danger. 

Neil came.

Someone came. 

Aaron and Neil. 

Neil made him stop. 

Aaron ended him for good.

Neil came.

…..

Neil tried to brace himself for the upcoming reactions. 

It was their secret, Andrew had said (even if he had used some words that made Neil question just  _ when _ his mind had been). He understood the meaning behind the words. 

People knowing they were soulmates put a giant target on Andrew's back after all.

But now the secret was out. On their faces for anyone to see. 

And Wymack… Well, he said something about Neil being a hostile witness that almost had him yelling ‘well you see, I just saw and vividly felt my soulmate- my teammate- getting raped so sorry if I'm not being cooperative, sorry if I didn't answer their questions  _ just _ because I was trying to ignore the intense pain I was in while Andrew struggled to get dressed. You see, I hate cops on top of that, so it wasn't an easy thing.’

It made him want to channel his inner Andrew right now, for strength or something. 

He didn't say the whole thing.

"Sorry, I was in shock. And I hate cops."

They had offered Neil some pills for the pain but he didn't take them. If Andrew felt it, so would he. They were  _ soulmates _ . This wasn't the first time  _ they _ went through this.

So he sat through the past hour while trying to ignore the poking and probing he had figured were needles and rape kits and god knows what else kind of aftercare Andrew needed right now.

He had sat there and waited.

Neil touched the bruise on his head and, not for the first time tonight, wondered if it would scar. 

"You hate them so much you couldn't even give them your name?" Wymack shot back, taking a drag. 

Neil scoffed, "I was a little out of it, Coach, you know, just having witnessed my soulmate getting brutally raped  _ while I also felt every bit of it _ . Or do you want details on where my mind was right then? Because I can tell you it wasn't in my body." 

The older man finally dropped it. 

"What Level are you two?"

"Six. We might find out if we're a seven once this pretty thing heals," he pointed to the spot on his head that was only a bruise with a weird-looking shade of… Silver-ish purple in the middle, right where Andrew's cut was.

"Best goalkeeper and fastest runner in Exy, Palmetto Foxes, problem children who give me constant headaches and also Level Six soulmates. I can't believe this is real life. I knew you two were fucked up, kid, but Level Six is a whole can of worms..." 

Neil shrugged, mostly to get rid of the kink in their shoulder and went back inside after throwing his cigarette butt on the floor.

It didn't take long for Andrew to walk out and Neil was up in a second. 

…..

The chat with Betsy-  _ Bee _ \- in the car had been… Interesting. He told her enough so she knew what happened but nothing that would infringe on Andrew's privacy. 

Except for how he knew about what had been going on. 

"We're-" he stopped himself then. 

Bee waited patiently. 

"We share the bond," he finally got out, "so when I felt the pain of something hitting us-" he stopped himself again. 

Fuck. He used "us" in front of a psychiatrist. 

Neil had no idea at what point he started saying it but figured it had been around the time Andrew said it was their secret. 

It just felt appropriate, after all that happened, to start referring to the pain as a plural thing, because it was.

She was probably mentally writing him down for delusional thinking or something. 

"With the kind of bond you two share, it's completely understandable that you think of your pain or his pain as belonging to the two of you. Because while you won't scar or bleed, the pain really belongs to the two of you."

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Validation.

She was trying to get Neil to open up about  _ that _ too. 

And the idiot he was, was taking the bait. Maybe Andrew was right about that after all. 

"When I felt the pain of something hitting us," he started over, "and Luther said Drake's name, I just reacted."

"How did you know to bring the racquet? No one else seemed to be alarmed by Drake's name."

"I heard the name once and put two and two together. Wasn't hard to do since I knew what he had been through." 

Betsy nodded, "And the racquet?" 

Neil rolled his eyes. Oh to live in a world where you were awarded for killing a child rapist and not put through shrink interrogations or a possible jail sentence. 

"I'm no good in a fight when it feels like I'm also being raped," he said bluntly. People seemed to back off at the word. 

Obviously not Bee. 

"Sounds like you've had experience with it."

"You probably know more about it than I do."

"You know where my office is if you ever need to talk, Neil."

"Right now I'm more worried about the car and breakfast than spilling someone else's secrets to a shrink."

"Oh, now they're someone else's?"

Neil shut up after that. 

  
  


Andrew was too damn stubborn to go. Of course he was. So he promised him he'd hold the fort while Andrew got off the meds. He really needed it. 

They needed it. 

Because that smile while they hurt so bad was something Neil couldn't erase from his mind. 

So he watched Andrew's reaction closely when he placed his hand under his shirt. He was letting Andrew in, showing him the many cuts they had shared the pain for. He watched the way his eyes widened in recognition and heard the German spill from his lips once more with his hand still on one of the bigger gashes on Neil's stomach.

"Our ouchies," he sounded light and his fingers felt light when they brushed over a couple smaller scars before Andrew pulled back with a possessive look in his eyes, "Ours."

Neil nodded in agreement and replied in the same language, "My scars, our pain." 

"My knives?" 

"I'll keep them for you."

"Try not to get us Leveled up while I'm in there. That is if we haven't already," he tapped his two fingers to Neil's temple instead of his own and a soft ache shot through them at the contact with the bruised skin. It reminded Neil just how much he was ignoring right now.

Neil wouldn't let himself think about it.

"I'll try my best," Neil offered a smile. 

Andrew rolled his eyes and seemed to hesitate for a moment, his fingers trailing down their bruises, down the same path as Andrew's blood had made. 

Then without another word, he walked over to Bee.

  
  


Usually people talked a lot when soulmates found each other. They had questions, so many of those. 

But when Neil met the Foxes after the whole Columbia ordeal… No one knew. Wymack hadn’t told them and neither did Kevin, Aaron or Nicky. 

Their bond was still, somehow, a secret.

The whole world knew Andrew's deepest secret now and no one in Neil's little world seemed to want to talk about what that meant, not in front of Neil at least, probably due to the bruises Neil sported. 

They knew. They probably knew. Right?

Knew they were a Level Six. Knew what happened to Andrew. Knew Neil knew too. 

They knew, right?

He hadn't even attempted to hide the relief he felt when the weird silver-purple spot on his (their?) bruised temple didn't leave him with a scar. 

They had touched. Maybe Neil could finally stop worrying about dragging them to their grave. 

As much as Neil appreciated the fact that no one brought it up, he couldn't help but feel like even his teammates were whispering behind his back. He was paranoid, for Andrew's sake.

"I didn't tell anyone, you know? About your bond," Wymack mentioned one day after practice. 

"My bon- oh. Our bond," Neil was quiet for a second. "Why? It's not like the foxes couldn't tell the moment they saw me." 

"You boys have been through enough," Wymack shrugged as he closed the gear closet and locked it. "Not fair to be exposed like that. But know sooner or later you'll probably have to tell them. Talk about it. For your- yours and Andrew's- safety. You were both lucky this time, believe it or not." 

Neil scoffed. "We got this, Coach." 

He couldn't wait for Andrew to finally get back so they could figure a way to make this thing work.

Together.

  
  


It wasn't until the banquet that it finally clicked what was happening. 

He had felt discomfort, some small aches here and there, woken up in the middle of the night to some completely odd feeling, but hadn't put two and two together until-

Neil had no idea why the thought going to Evermore would actually help Andrew. He was probably in more pain now than he ever would have if Neil had simply stayed with the foxes for Christmas. 

He tried not to think about what he was doing to Andrew, tried not to think about how he was probably just as black and blue as Neil- or maybe even more, because soulmate's bruises tended to expand a little like the paint in milk experiment he remembered doing as a kid- and in just as much pain.

They were in pain because Neil was destroying their bodies. He was letting someone destroy their bodies.

He tried to protect Andrew and ended up torturing him in the process. 

Maybe it would be a good thing if he never left Evermore.

…..

Andrew was… Bitter. Hm. That's a way to put it. 

He was stupidly bitter because the torturous process of rehab wasn't enough, oh no, he had to also get tortured by his idiot soulmate. 

Some days he woke up with such an ache to his body that he wasn't even sure where his pain ended and Neil's pain began. 

_ Their _ pain indeed.

Neil Josten was an idiot. Andrew hated him.

"Did I break my promise or were you keeping yours?"

"I'm so-"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

The idiot was quiet for a moment, "Neither."

"I hate you. We could have fucking Leveld up," he sounded bored even though the rage inside him felt hot and intense.

If he pushed Neil off the roof he'd  _ probably  _ die now that he was that beat up. 

Or maybe they'd just end up in pain with their lucks.

"We've touched," Josten said. 

"And since when are we fucking normal? Our luck that that shit wouldn't fucking work." 

Neil actually let out a bitter-sounding laugh at that. 

"How long have you known?" Andrew asked after a while.

"I had my suspicions but wasn't sure until that day I guess. You?"

"From day one." 

He glanced at the idiot who nodded, seemingly deep in thought. 

"When you hit me."

He regarded Neil's thoughtful expression carefully, trying to figure out what he could possibly be thinking right then while ignoring the beautiful way the smoke curled around him. As much as Neil's expressions gave away, his face was his own mask. A mask of normality that could make most people see him as one of them, as a normal and functioning human being, but Andrew wasn't fooled by it. His face never gave anything  _ real _ away. Not the pain they were in right now, not the pain they had been in… and for a moment he thought about seeing Neil's face while people hurt them just to see how real he could look then. 

Maybe he was sick after all. Easthaven probably shouldn't have let him out, ever.

"You were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs." 

"I'm real."

"You're a pipe dream is what you are." 

Neil's lips curled in a smile, the stupid 4 on his face moving slightly. 

"Were you serious about Luther?" 

"I don't lie." 

"Good," Neil nodded.

"Pipe dream. I hate you."

…..

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading 😊


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